


Over the Counter

by charcoalscenes



Series: The Welcome Mat [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes
Summary: Direct sequel to The Vestibule; still written between episodes 43 and 44.Olive branches are offered, reprieves are accepted, and fallouts continue to be evaded; it's all, mostly, successful(?).After numerous offers Yusaku has made to invite him into his life – after settling precariously into this new setup – there is an  attempt  at giving something back.





	1. Chopping Block

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone else have anxiety about writing ongoing works for this pairing because the hope for any happy resolution for these two strikes one as a potential limited time offer? What can next Wednesday offer – or take away? Will the dreams that this AU is made of crumble at my feet?

Fate has been undeniably cruel, nearly as much as his own father had been towards others at times – but lately, for once, fate is giving Ryoken something that, until now, he’s only had in snippets: a prolonged lull.

His comrades know about it, but not much is said – simply because none of them know for sure whether or not it’s a safe idea for Ryoken to continue his visits. Genome seems to be the most suspicious, and has verbalized his doubts as much, while the others send Ryoken quiet frowns of worry. He’s aware that Specter and Faust, particularly, have residual resentments over more than just their loses by Playmaker, and part of Ryoken is readying for that discussion, whenever the three of them are ever willing to have it – likely sooner rather than later.

The only one who’s given Ryoken a smile over this newfound hobby (is what he supposes he can call it) is Kyoko, and even with her, he sees the apprehension.

But all of them can understand why he does it, and for that, no one has made any real effort to stop him. Not only are Yusaku and Kusanagi truly holding no intention of betraying Ryoken as of yet, but more than that, more than the hobby, and more than the food, there is this: After ten years of not knowing where and how _that boy_ is only to discover him again through months of rivalry, destiny is finally just giving him to him.

And even as it gets to the point where his visits grow frequent enough that Yusaku no longer looks up from his computer screen when Ryoken walks up to them, Ryoken knows better than to take this reprieve for granted.

* * *

 

It’s the first time he calls him.

_“His name is Yusaku Fujiki.” Kusanagi had spoken softly after giving Ryoken his order. By then, he supposed the truck owner recognized his face. “And I’m Shoichi Kusanagi, by the way. Nice to meet you.”_

_“Likewise.” Ryoken replied._

_Kusanagi didn’t seem perturbed that he didn’t give a name. “He’s a nice kid.” His eyes flitted quickly towards Yusakau, then back to him again. “Quiet, though, but that’s just because he’s not used to talking to others.”_

_“Oh.” Ryoken said, seeing where this was heading. He supposed there’s only so many covert side glances he could’ve tried sneaking Yusaku’s way before getting caught somehow._

_“He’s shy too.” Kusanagi chuckled. “Hard to get him to pay attention to you unless you go up to him first. –From what I’ve seen, of course.”_

_“Yes.” Ryoken didn’t have any comeback ready, though various possible answers came to mind. He discarded all of them. “Thank you again. Please keep coming here.”_

_“We will.” Kusanagi had a kind smile, conspiratorial and teasing, as though he and Ryoken were just a single step away from friendship – and as though he and Yusaku’s chances for such were even better._

It turns out, Kusanagi was both right and wrong. It was Yusaku who extended his hand to him first, all but tricking Ryoken to do nothing but spend time together and later on welcoming him to active investigations he and Kusanagi conduct as well. But Kusanagi was right about one thing.

“Yusaku.” Ryoken greets once his call is answered. “It’s me. Ryoken.”

“I know.”

Ryoken brushes it off. “What are you doing tonight?”

Yusaku pauses, and regardless that it isn’t exceptionally long of a moment, Ryoken honestly feels that it’s too much time for him to answer. He waits anyway, until Yusaku replies, “Not anything different from usual.”

“Good.” Ryoken opens his fridge. The inside is underwhelming. “If you like, I want to invite you and Kusanagi for dinner. I can make something for you, but if it’s better, we can go out somewhere. It’ll be my treat.”

Again, Yusaku quiets. Ryoken should probably have asked this face-to-face, or perhaps even Kusanagi would’ve been the more proper person to ask. But Ryoken knows it wouldn’t have felt as right, or proper; something about asking Kusanagi feels too much like asking for permission to something. He tries not to think too deeply about what holding that sort of impression might mean for him at the moment.

“I’ll ask him.” Yusaku says.

Ryoken predicted as much– “Thank you.” –and for all that he’s worth, for all that he’s gone through and for all the fighting he’s done, he finds the need to brace himself before making his next suggestion. “If he can’t make it, you can always ask me for a ride.” Then, he disclaims, for what seems like an umpteenth time, because it feels necessary, “If you like.”

They’ve spent enough time together that Ryoken is aware that Yusaku can get quiet, but it strikes him differently over a call, as though Yusaku can just hang up on him at any moment and Ryoken would be none the wiser. “Let me know soon, please.” He initiates to end their talk. “I can ask again in a bit. Until then.”

“Yes.” Yusaku says. Ryoken stands there, in the middle of his kitchen, listening to a silence, before realizing that it probably actually happened: Yusaku hung up and he couldn’t tell. Ryoken clicks his phone to sleep without checking to see if he’s correct and puts it down on the counter.

* * *

 

 _“it will be just me.”_ He texts. _“can kusanagi drop me off at your house?”_

_“he can. sorry he can’t come. would you like me to cook, or do you want to eat out?”_

_“up to u.”_

Ryoken hasn’t had to shop for groceries for more than one person in a while. The last friends he’d made an effort to cook a meal for were Kyoko and Specter, and that feels like a lifetime ago. There’s a bit of nostalgia creeping up on him as he gets ready to do some quick shopping when his phone rings.

He’s honestly surprised that Yusaku calls him instead of writing again. “Hello?”

“Are you cooking?”

“No.” Ryoken is almost taken aback from the briskness of the question. “I will, though. I want to grab a few things first.”

“Oh.” Yusaku says. Ryoken makes it to his shoes but doesn’t even want to bother tying them one-handed. He could put Yusaku on speaker, but chooses not to, wanting to listen for the other’s soft breathing through the line, which, given Yusaku’s dips into silences, is really the only way Ryoken can be assured that he’s still even there. “I want to help you cook.” Yusaku says. There’s a hint of determination in his voice that Ryoken unwittingly finds endearing when he catches it.

“You can cook?” He asks, and wants to snap his mouth closed as soon as the question leaves him. Luckily, Yusaku doesn’t sound very miffed.

“Yes. But not well. It was just a thought.” Yusaku quickly amends, and this time, Ryoken _really_ wishes they were talking face-to-face. Yusaku is even more talented in hiding or brushing off his emotional outbursts and blunders than Ryoken is – or anyone else he knows, really – but for once, his voice is clearly flustered, and Ryoken wonders what that must look like in person. “I’m a bit inept, actually. I’ll just wait until the right time.”

“Wait!” Ryoken says perhaps a bit too loudly, recognizing Yusaku’s conclusive tone. “Uh– It’s fine.” He softens. “No, it’s a good idea, in fact. We can get the food together, if that’s fine. If you’re fine with getting picked up right now.” Ryoken closes his eyes and just stops himself from rubbing his hand over his face before he throws Yusaku another out. “But waiting is acceptable. No pressure.”

He is painfully aware of how he’s been handling something that is, by all means, trivial. Having dinner together should feel more casual than this, but Ryoken can hear himself clipping his words in an effort towards some composure, away from stammering. The only thing still keeping his head afloat is that Yusaku sounds like he’s in the same boat with him – granted that their metaphorical boat hasn’t already started sinking fast.

“I’ll be ready.” Yusaku replies. “Would you be alright picking me up instead?”

“I said I can.” Ryoken is able to say. The straightforward comeback helps him feel a little bit more like himself, and he goes on more assuredly, already mapping a quick route to Yusaku’s house in his head. “I can be there in ten minutes, maybe a bit more.”

When Yusaku is long in answering again, Ryoken takes another initiative. “I’m fine with waiting for you there if you need more time. I’ll see you soon.”

He ends the call for three reasons. One: he needs to actually take a moment and center himself; it was ridiculous to have stumbled over his own propositions, regardless if he did feel a ridiculous spike of worry when Yusaku tried to cut off their conversation after almost putting himself down. Two: Ryoken was also too close to sounding like an idiot himself that, even if it was abrupt, it’s probably best to finish off before he really did end up somehow making a fool of himself.

He slides into a pair of shoes. He won’t know if he can admit the third reason to Yusaku tonight, but the truth is, Ryoken feels excited – something that’s never happened in this context before. He’s going shopping and looking forward to it with a disproportionate amount of thrill next to the actual act, and he hopes it won’t show through his face once Yusaku is with him.

He doesn’t get far down the path from his door when his phone chimes again. Ryoken doesn’t comprehend why Yusaku sends him his location at first, frowning, only to feel a rush of cold sweep through him when he realizes the the meaning behind Yusaku’s comments.

 _“it’s my house.”_ Yusaku wrote, his style as neutral as ever, but he isn’t an idiot, and Ryoken is sure that he _knows_ . _“you never asked for it.”_


	2. Over the Counter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry, fam.

Ryoken thought he’s gotten used to Yusaku’s silences, but after that text, he finds out he’s wrong. 

He only stops gripping the wheel of his car with such intensity that his knuckles go white when he catches the sight of his hands while turning. If Yusaku notices his rigidness, he doesn’t say anything. As far as Ryoken can tell, his companion is only staring straight ahead at the road ahead of them. Ryoken glances at him from time to time since the moment they left his building, but Yusaku’s never returned his stare. 

It’s one of the rare times in Ryoken’s life that he isn’t sure if he can handle getting groceries right now. 

Once they’re close enough to their destination, however, Ryoken finally remembers that he has a spine, and brings it upon himself to speak first, voice quiet as he asks, “Do you still want to do this?” 

“Yes.” Yusaku answers fairly easily. Just the single word manages to shower Ryoken with a good amount of relief. 

They enter the parking lot, and Ryoken makes their final stop. He figures he ought to wait until he’s safely finished maneuvering and parked before opening up the conversation and finally saying, “I’m sorry.” 

Yusaku doesn’t have a quick response, and rather than agonize over his hesitation, Ryoken waits. His guard around Yusaku – and even Kusanagi – has gone down over the past weeks; so much so that he’d almost brushed aside the methods he’d used to keep tabs on Yusaku before the Tower collapsed as  _ normal _ given the context of his life back then. For a while, having watched Yusaku from afar and collecting basic information on him behind his back felt like something Ryoken did in a distant past. 

But in truth, it’s all so  _ recent _ , isn’t it? He has talked about such things with Yusaku and Kusanagi before, of course, but had left out a few of the more questionable details, not just wanting to avoid fallout while their last battle and all the wounds that had opened were still fresh, but also to simply spare them the less savory things Ryoken’s done for the sake of his former cause and  _ obsession _ . 

Yusaku sounds contemplative when he finally replies. “To be honest, I should have figured.” He hums. “It’s not like you haven’t mentioned that you’d been watching us before. I guess I just didn’t think of all the things that could mean – all the things you might already have known.” 

Yusaku peers at him when he’s silent, and Ryoken recognizes the query in his expression. He figures he’s been honestly blunt before, but over time, he’s distanced himself from the person who’d only wanted to push Yusaku away by cruelly proclaiming his own long list of sins. 

The urge to do so has never left, but has grown numb; the rage and grief waning so that what remains is the  _ guilt _ . 

“Your address.” Ryoken starts with the obvious. “And your school, yes. Kusanagi’s address too. I found out you spend time with your friends, the Duel Club. Aoi Zaizen is a member. One of the others seems particularly attached to you, last I checked. When you spoke of a classmate you spend more time with, I knew you were talking about him.” 

Yusaku’s mouth hangs open, eyes wide, and it grips at Ryoken’s chest. But the reaction is brief, and Yusaku composes himself again, brow furrowed, thoughtful more than angry. 

He absently repeats himself. “I should have known.” 

Ryoken doesn’t know what to make of that, and in a surge of indignation – not for himself, but for  _ Yusaku _ – he snaps, “Don’t say that.” These sound like old arguments by now, ones Ryoken has brought up before but that have usually ended with him feeling like the only one he’s arguing with is himself, Yusaku often having little will to fight with him. “You shouldn’t have had to know or assume anything. I  _ stalked you _ . I could have entered your home, followed you from school. It doesn’t matter if we were enemies then. I  _ did those things _ .” 

“I know.” Yusaku snaps. At least it’s some sort of sensible reaction. “I know. I told you already I know; I have no delusions about anything you’ve said or done–” 

“Then how can you be like this?” Ryoken challenges, growing heated in spite of the familiarity of their words. “How are you here with me?” 

Yusaku flinches, and before Ryoken thinks to try and block the impulse to hate himself for it, Yusaku shoots back, “Do you not want me here?” He asks sullenly enough that Ryoken suspects that he’s actually afraid the answer will be  _ yes _ . 

“You know that’s not what this is about.” 

“No.” Yusaku agrees, and instead of saying more, he jerks the handle of his door and pushes it open. The door swings so aggressively that Ryoken is vaguely thankful that Yusaku’s side isn’t close to another car or a pole. Yusaku stomps onto the pavement and waits for Ryoken to follow him out. 

The fact that he keeps his door open and held in his grasp doesn’t escape Ryoken, as though the car itself is being taken hostage for Ryoken to leave with him, and of course, Ryoken relents. He takes his time turning the engine off and sliding out from his side, shutting his door infinitely more softly than the slam with which Yusaku closes his with.

* * *

 

“You’re being childish.” 

“You’re being repetitive.” 

“Repetition is one method to teaching when a student  _ refuses _ to retain knowledge on a subject.” 

“Am I your student? Am I just a child to you? Do you think I’m suddenly blind to everything you’ve done?” 

“What do you think you’ve been acting like?” 

“I think you’re misunderstanding where I’m coming from. You think I’m ignorant–” 

“I never said you were–” 

“Then what are you trying to imply–” 

“I’m not implying anything! For one: I’m sure I’ve been trying to be more direct about us than you’ve been–” 

“Welcome…!” The nearest store clerk greets cheerfully enough when they enter through the automatic doors, only to trail off and for her smile to vanish in the same fashion once she overhears and notices the tension between them. 

She stares, not saying anything more, and both Ryoken and Yusaku look away, shuffling deeper into the shop. The calming music and warm lighting over fresh-looking produce almost fails to remind Ryoken where they are and why they’re here. 

Yusaku grumbles, the animosity in his voice the most similar Ryoken has heard to how he speaks as Playmaker yet. “What do we need?” 

_ To get out of here. _ Ryoken refuses to let this discussion just drop again; he wants to drag Yusaku back outside into the cooler air and rail at him as though they’re back to shouting at one another from twenty feet apart in the midst of a Master Duel. 

He warns instead, “This isn’t over.” Yusaku glares ahead of him, and Ryoken mutters. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” 

Yusaku thankfully does not offer any rebuttal, and that leaves Ryoken to gather himself, thinking to just walk off and leave Yusaku to blow off his steam on his own as well. “Do we need a cart?” Yusaku clips before Ryoken follows through. 

“No, we don’t need a cart.” Ryoken mirrors his tone. He peers around before catching and picking up a basket. When he strides towards the greens, he knows Yusaku will follow. 

They sulk this way for several minutes, and then some. Ryoken gathers spinach and asparagus mindlessly at first, his thoughts primarily still on the topic they left off on. Yusaku is right; he is repeating himself, but he doesn’t feel remorse for it at all. In fact, he stands by what he said; Yusaku’s attitude as of late has been driving him to this. 

He wanders to the vaguely familiar path of jars, and it’s only then, his own head still in a rushed haze of condemnations mostly towards himself in the past, that Yusaku asks, with less sullenness now than before, “What are you even making?” 

Ryoken doesn’t want to answer, and so doesn’t for a moment, only frowning that Yusaku still has the audacity to ask about something so meaningless next to what Ryoken had just brought up all over again– 

“That’s starting to look heavy.” Yusaku comments. 

The basket Ryoken carries is, indeed, becoming burdensome, but Ryoken doesn’t deem to acknowledge it. “It’s just something simple.” He mumbles in answer to Yusaku’s previous question, then elaborates dismissively. “Some broccoli in sauce, eggplants and what else in peanut mix.” 

“Sounds nice.” 

Ryoken has ingredients at home, but he’d been wanting to do this with his new companions for a while, the idea stewing in him ever since he began to suspect that Yusaku’s daily diet isn’t the most  _ ideal _ , to say the least. 

He’s sure that Kusanagi must be feeding him with more variation than just what his truck can provide, but Ryoken isn’t sure if that would apply to everyday, or even most days. And from what Kusanagi has let slip in the few times he’s spoken of Yusaku outside of their assignments, Ryoken suspects that what Yusaku keeps in his own home isn’t exactly satisfactory either. 

He found himself imagining it the way he used to imagine sitting across from Yusaku before he knew he was Revolver, indulging in fantasies of leftovers stored in Ryoken’s fridge, portions of various dishes at the ready for him to give or, perhaps, for Yusaku to simply take himself. 

Life is still far from peaceful, Ryoken feeling as though SOL Technologies and the potential threat of A.I. that his father drilled into his head are both breathing down his neck (and now Yusaku’s as well), but for a while – compared to what his life had been like shortly before – it’s come pretty close, and daydreaming feels almost like a safe thing to do. 

–Maybe even a safe thing to pursue. 

“I’m getting both today–” Ryoken informs, flat but ascending to Yusaku’s obvious attempt at temporarily derailing their argument. “–but what would you like for tonight? Chicken, pork?” 

Yusaku frowns and Ryoken almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all; he doesn’t know if Yusaku keeps being indecisive or if he’s been feeling as unbalanced over this new  _ thing _ they’re sharing that facing issues this mundane gets him stumped too. 

“Pork, maybe.” Yusaku mumbles. “I don’t know.” 

“I guess you can’t be as direct as you are with dueling in everything else.” It comes out more playful than Ryoken intends it to be, and so he catches himself, turning from him again and stewing. By all means, he’s given Yusaku plenty of acquiescence as of late, going along with what is so obviously what the other wants, and enjoying himself as well. But given everything, all the things that keep coming up between them whether they will it or not, Ryoken sometimes feels uncomfortable with the easiness of it all. 

More and more, Yusaku  _ makes _ this companionship deceptively easy when it shouldn’t be; it should feel far from it, in fact. 

They’re silent all the way to check-out, Yusaku wordlessly taking half the bags while Ryoken pays. Even in the midst of a rather frigid standstill, Ryoken has managed to overspend and splurge a little, but Yusaku likely doesn’t notice the extra goods Ryoken won’t even use tonight. 

Neither knows how to start again, however, once they’re alone, packing Ryoken’s trunk and afterwards climbing into the front seats, Yusaku closing his door more calmly this time. But Ryoken allows the silence between them to settle, and it helps, of course, that he doesn’t really want to get into it again while driving. (And if Yusaku actually does choose to change his mind and cancel this date, Ryoken is at least confident in the other’s ability to honestly say so.) 

Still, he slows down just a bit as they pass by Yusaku’s house, no doubt occupied by the Ignis he’s kept. The reminder of Yusaku’s companion brings something else to Ryoken’s mind, and he inquires, “Why did Kusanagi not come?” 

Ryoken isn’t sure if the answer will be kind, and isn’t sure if Yusaku hesitates for such a reason.  _ At least then Ryoken will know that Kusanagi can be counted on to have some sense. _ Ryoken frowns at himself. He decides to keep that to himself no matter what Yusaku’s response might lead to. 

Yusaku mumbles something, then sighs. Ryoken nearly snaps, “What was that?” 

“ _ Third wheel _ –” Yusaku grates. He rests his arm against his window and leans into it, not acknowledging the way Ryoken’s expression freezes. “–is what he said.” 

Kusanagi’s phrasing had obviously annoyed Yusaku, and Ryoken leaves it alone. He can see where the older man might be coming from, knowing he can be equal parts caring and playful towards Yusaku and wanting the best for him. It helps to bring some sense of levity back to the outing, but Ryoken’s previous doubts don’t fade.

* * *

 

They leave the silence alone for the rest of the ride, and only begin to break it in cracks when they arrive in Ryoken’s home a little while later, well past dawn. After short statements of, “I’ll carry that,” and, “It’s fine,” Yusaku finally makes a somewhat more invested comment. 

“I like your porch lights.” He says, trailing behind Ryoken as they trek to the front door. Ryoken refrains himself from correcting, “They’re not porch lights,” on account of the fact that the small, calf-high lamps line the walkway as opposed to Ryoken’s actual porch. He instead allows himself to appreciate another of Yusaku’s attempts to reconnect once more. 

“Thanks.” Ryoken opens his door for them, turning back to look at his peculiar companion. 

Yusaku pauses, still staring absently at the rather simplistic decor. Granted, Ryoken is aware of the design’s elegance, but in reality, the material and purpose is pretty straightforward. 

He expects Yusaku to say more about it, but he doesn’t, stepping forward instead and prompting Ryoken to welcome him into his home. Ryoken locks the door behind them, and passing the entryway, they make a beeline to the kitchen. 

Typically, Ryoken figures, Yusaku doesn’t adhere to the instruction of leaving the work to him, instead persisting as softly as he always has to sharing Ryoken’s space and endeavors, even one as small as this.  _ Or _ – Ryoken frowns while working over the stove – perhaps the previous argument has him overthinking this. It’s perfectly possible that Yusaku is just striving to be a respectful and worthy, if but a bit quiet, houseguest. 

A bit over an hour later, the meal nearly done, Yusaku seems to blurt out, “Are your lights supposed to look like Stardust Road?” 

Ryoken pauses, going still at the reference, but only briefly. He eases again, moving between the sink and counter and answering, “Maybe.” More finished cookware goes into the sink for cleaning later. “We… It was installed a long time ago. I don’t remember if it’s supposed to, but honestly, it’s a pretty normal set up. So, probably not.” 

“It’s nice anyway.” Yusaku wipes the counters’ surfaces on his own accord, his motions slow as he takes a long look towards the window. Then, he brings up, “Do you think,” he hesitates, “if it’s no trouble, that we could eat outside?” 

“We won’t see Stardust Road tonight.” The response is automatic, Ryoken barely thinking of it before it leaves his mouth. The connection was set up, of course, but instantly, he still feels presumptuous of voicing it; it isn’t what Yusaku is directly asking for, after all. “But, I suppose.” He recovers. “We have space outside. I’ll just clean it.” 

“We won’t have to do some yard work, will we?” 

“That’s right, Yusaku, I regularly invite guests over and expect them to cut the weeds when I prompt them to.” Again, though, Ryoken cringes. And again, he attempts to soften himself. “No, of course we won’t. It’s clean, I just need to wipe down a table, take out the chairs.” 

“I’ll help you.” 

“No, please.” This time – perhaps because he’s already helped more than enough with the food – Yusaku appears to have less objection to this. “Rest a bit. You’re a guest.” It’s Ryoken’s time to insist. “Make yourself at home. You can wander around, be comfortable. I won’t be long.” 

“Okay.” Yusaku says. Ryoken is a little relieved. He wonders if Yusaku can see or sense how frazzled Ryoken can sometimes get around him. 

Ryoken takes a roll of towels with him before leaving Yusaku to himself for now, making for the cleaning supplies and getting to work on ridding the outdoor furniture of dirt and dust. 

It gives him time to think, too, away from the busywork of cooking and prepping – and away from Yusaku. Their fight is one of many – and the word “many” doesn’t even necessarily include the ones they’ve had as Playmaker and Revolver. The intensity that Ryoken used to instill in these arguments, though, has undoubtedly dulled since Yusaku has made it a mission to be a constant presence in Ryoken’s life, like Yusaku has eroded the sharper edges of Ryoken’s stance on this relationship over time.

Tonight was also one of the few times, too, that the two of them nearly made a scene over all of this in public. In other instances when that nearly happened, Kusanagi was, at least, nearby as a pseudo-moderator – however obviously biased to one side he might be. 

Eventually, Ryoken roams back inside, intending to call Yusaku out and bring their meal and dinnerware with them. He doesn’t see him right away, though – Yusaku having left the kitchen and dining area and no doubt exploring other areas of the house as Ryoken suggested. 

Ryoken can’t help but be pleased at that. He may not ever be able to say this to Yusaku as well, but just the thought of having Yusaku feel even marginally comfortable enough to move freely in Ryoken’s home is a fantasy that had played out since the possibility of inviting him over had bloomed in Ryoken’s mind. 

Instead of calling out his name, Ryoken moves the food and tableware outside himself, covering the food when he’s done. It’s a simple setup: cushions on metal chairs, a somewhat overgrown lawn, and the view to make up for it. Ryoken had turned on the lights, but without it, the moon and its reflection on the water’s surface shine brightly enough that he wonders if Yusaku might not have minded if Ryoken hadn’t. 

Yusaku still hasn’t come back, so Ryoken checks the living and entertainment areas next. It’s a rather spacious house, so when Yusaku remains to be seen there or in the closest washroom, Ryoken reconsiders simply calling for his guest to come out. 

Thankfully, Yusaku’s footsteps come closer from the corridor leading upstairs. “Hey.” He greets. “Is it ready?” 

“Yes. Where were you?” At this point, Ryoken doesn’t distrust Yusaku in the slightest; not with any information he might find, at least. There is very few things he hasn’t already learned one way or another. 

“I was trying to find your room, to be honest.” Yusaku actually admits, shrugging. “But you have too many rooms here. A lot of them were empty.” 

Ryoken nods as he leads him back outside. “I repurposed most of them for projects my fath–...” He doesn’t even try to hide what he nearly says. It’s nothing Yusaku doesn’t expect to hear occasionally. “I had them cleared out a while ago, though. I don’t need as much space for what we’re doing now as I used to.” 

Yusaku doesn’t comment. He saves his voice for when they step out. “It’s pretty here.” 

_ I knew you’d think so. _ Ryoken is sure if he says it aloud, it’d sound more smug than he’s willing, at the moment, to admit he feels. He pulls out a chair for Yusaku and waits. 

Yusaku pauses, then utters, “Thank you,” and takes it, allowing Ryoken to push his chair closer to the table. “Let’s eat.” 

“Let’s eat.” Ryoken sits across from him. He uncovers the food, the scent of their seasonings and sauce wafting out instantly. “What made you want to eat outside, suddenly?” 

“It’s a nice night out.” Yusaku says, helping himself. “I always liked coming here with Kusanagi. I never really got to hear the waves at night except for that one time, but it was nice to sit close to the sea like this, when it’s dark.” 

Ryoken agrees. Most nights in his recent years had been spent inside, many times not even in the physical world. Allowing himself the reprieve, once in a while, to hear nothing but water hitting stone sometimes helped him wind down, the ocean a more welcome noise than the buzz of his family’s machines. The steadfast sounds of crashing waves filled in the silences between his thoughts with more gentleness than the soft hum of his father’s computers ever could. 

It’s likely that Yusaku, from his end, has had a similar experience. Ryoken is tempted to ask what he used to ground himself in nights when his thoughts and memories made so much of a racket that something had to help stifle them – the way Ryoken’s shore did. What Ryoken fumbles out, instead, is the offer, “I’ll take you in the yacht next time.” 

Yusaku blinks up, mouth partly open in a move to take another bite, but he stops. His eyes glint at Ryoken’s words, and Ryoken forgets about any reason he has to regret proposing that – the brashness of it, their shared past. Yusaku’s face shines, and he smiles. “I’d like that.” 

Ryoken isn’t the type to look away from anyone he speaks with, but at this moment, the urge is there, a quiet eruption taking place inside of him from of Yusaku’s delight that he worries shows in his face. He looks back to his plate, torn between immersing himself in a sort of self-satisfaction versus stifling it down, unsettled with how strongly something so trivial as his companion’s glee could affect him. 

Yusaku eats quietly after that, and Ryoken follows suit, the two of them swaying between looking towards each other, their plates, and the cliffside beside them. “It’s like something from a movie.” Yusaku mumbles. Despite the admiration in the statement itself, he sounds at home, his tone soft. 

It’s only when they’re both nearly done with their meals that Ryoken figures that now is as good a time as any to resolve what happened earlier. If Yusaku is feeling anything like Ryoken does, it’s calmer from the weight of their food, from the effort to make it together, from the ocean’s constant push against the property, and the stillness of everything else around them save for when a breeze comes by. 

Even so, he is reluctant to say, “I’m sorry for before.” Then, he tries, “You know what I was trying to tell you, though, don’t you?” 

Ryoken is grateful that Yusaku doesn’t counter immediately, instead twirling his remaining food in thought. Bringing it up while they still have food on their plates is something Ryoken would have expected would help soften their reactions to this topic. While that might be correct, it also makes it seem unfitting to actually continue eating, and Ryoken is tempted to fidget as Yusaku does. 

“I do.” Yusaku answers. He looks up from his plate. “You’re a good person. I don’t expect you to not feel bad for what happened. I’m sorry that you can’t understand,” he nearly trails off, but finishes nonetheless, “that I don’t hold you responsible. I’m sorry you can’t understand that I’m thankful for you. I know you don’t like hearing that.” 

“I don’t.” Ryoken confirms. He reigns in the initial burst to object to Yusaku’s words as strongly as he can, grounding himself.  _ He isn’t mad at Yusaku _ , he reminds himself. It wouldn’t do to take his frustrations with their past, with what Yusaku perceives him to be, out on him. 

Ryoken attempts to convey, “I’m always worried that you see me as something I’m not. I loved my father.” He hasn’t told Yusaku that before. It’s always been a fact to him, and maybe, he figures, it’s always been so obvious from his point of view that Yusaku doesn’t realize the gravity of that sentiment. “I helped him. I helped him hurt people; your friends, you. I don’t know how differently I would have fought against you, how worse I could have been, if I didn’t find out who you were first.” He confesses. That, at least, is something he’s shared with Yusaku before. “Yes, I rescued you. But I’m not a good person for that one action. It cost me the father I loved. Part of me regrets it.” 

“I know.” Yusaku says, and again, Ryoken restrains himself from snapping something back.  _ How could you possibly know? _ But Yusaku, besides in this conviction he still holds over Ryoken’s nature, has never struck Ryoken as delusional. Getting to know Yusaku, Ryoken recognizes that the other is observant, that he doesn’t fall for lies, that he seems to always see more truths than he ever openly shares. “I know you loved him. I know you didn’t want him gone. I also know that, if you had to make that call all over again, you would.” 

“You can’t know that.” Ryoken actually does snap. “Knowing now what turning my father in did to him, you can’t know how many times I wanted to take that back.” 

“But you wouldn’t, in the end.” Yusaku voices. Ryoken doesn’t see any impression of hero-worship or misplaced fervor from him. “It would hurt you – you knew it would hurt your father. But you did it. Ryoken,” Yusaku addresses before Ryoken can get a word in, his tone firm. “You’re worried I have the wrong idea about you. Maybe you have the wrong idea about  _ me _ .” 

“That’s something I’ve considered from day one.” Ryoken mutters aloud, then clicks his tongue at himself. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Yusaku cracks a smile. “It’s funny when you do that.” 

What else is Yusaku bound to see in Ryoken that, in all seriousness, isn’t even there? Ryoken waits for Yusaku to continue, though, keeping the sarcasm to himself. 

Yusaku abandons his food completely for now, taking his hands away from the plate. “For years, I knew that someone who became my friend by talking to me–” he pauses, then emphasizes, as though the words are more fitting “– _ staying with me _ at the time I was suffering was still there, and that I couldn’t leave him. You may not have been in a cell like mine,” Yusaku admits, “but you were trapped too. I think you know you were, in your own way. But more than because you saved me by staying with me, or by calling the police, I want to be with you for a more important reason.” 

Ryoken already knows, feels, what Yusaku is going to say, and when Yusaku does, it’s still with a softness that buffers how otherwise grand and campy the sentiment would be. “You became my friend.” Ryoken, however, doesn’t expect him to add, with the same amount of calm and surety, “And I became yours.” 

Ryoken can’t help but laugh, a huff that escapes him for the gall Yusaku has to claim such a thing before Ryoken would. “Yusaku.” He has the urge to shake his head, but he picks up his utensils again instead, an excuse to use his hands. “What are we going to do with you?” 

“We’re doing just fine.” Yusaku replies. Ryoken chances a glance back up, and guesses that the wry smile he wears matches his own. Yusaku attends to his plate as well. “This is good.” He gestures at the food. “Let’s do this more often.” 

“Are you telling me to cook for you now, too?” Though that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Getting Yusaku here, showing him that Kusanagi doesn’t have to be the only person he can depend on anymore; that, besides the infuriating A.I. which Yusaku has come to treat as a partner, he now has one more person to come to for needs as simple as a meal. 

Yusaku shrugs. “If you invite me.” 

He goes about finishing his plate, and Ryoken leaves him to it. A thousand more apologies rest in his core. Ryoken wonders if it will ever feel like he and Yusaku will be on the same page about what sits inside of Ryoken like a thorn he will always bear, but it wouldn’t do to ruin Yusaku’s appetite, and the better mood, with more fighting.  _ For now. _

“You’re my friend, huh?” At least Yusaku has it in him to look a little embarrassed when Ryoken teases, his guest ducking his head while chewing. 

“Aren’t I?” 

The times Yusaku’s assuredness falters are rare, and despite how he suddenly sounds an ounce doubtful now, Ryoken smirks behind a glass of water, leaving Yusaku in a brief moment of discomfort over the intentional silence. To his credit, Yusaku takes it in stride, frowning with an indignation that makes his face look almost like it’s pouting before clearing his plate.

* * *

 

“ _ thanks for dropping me off last night _ ,” Ryoken reads from his phone the next morning. 

“ _ Of course. It’s fine. _ ” 

He doesn’t expect another response; Yusaku, for all his efforts to engage with Ryoken up to this point, still retains a rather to-the-point demeanor that Ryoken takes to mean that Yusaku isn’t the type to expand a conversation. When his phone rings again with a new notification, however, he reads, “ _ kusanagi is taking today off. _ ”

Ryoken doesn’t know what to do with that information. He can guess why Yusaku is telling him this, and before he thinks of a reply, Yusaku confirms it. “ _ i know you're busy. don’t take this the wrong way. just letting u know if you like to meet anyway, it’s your turn to give me a location. _ ” 

“ _ Don’t you have anything better to do with your day than spend it with me? _ ” 

Ryoken stares at the taunt for a moment before sending it. Humor is the intent, but there’s a chance Yusaku won’t get it. There’s also a chance that Yusaku might actually snap out of it and realize that Ryoken is right; there  _ are _ other people in his life now to be around with besides him. Why pursue  _ him _ ? 

It doesn’t take long. Ryoken is almost weary over what his answer might be, but as usual, it’s anything but some form of a rejection. 

“ _ most of what we do is work on a computer. i don’t think you’ll care that i’m online the whole time we’d be together, but most people do. _ ” 

Then, “ _ unless you want to do something else? _ ” 

The possibilities flourish all at once. Maybe this, too, is something he knew would happen if he did allow Yusaku to invite him into a relationship. It is easy – shockingly natural – to imagine spending more days with his company. He has known for a while where his emotions would stray should Yusaku successfully embed himself into Ryoken’s new life. And he has. 

His phone still on the page of Yusaku’s last message, Ryoken stares at the waiting keyboard, contemplative. Eventually, he moves to answer. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oops.


End file.
